The Sentinels honey and sulfur

deirdre was learning, though she did not know all. she could understand better than she could speak, and sometimes would respond simply in english. his murmurings were met with a thoughtful look, and she frowned. is it not a lie? she asked him, it is bad to lie. which is worse? her query was genuine, truly curious; she wondered what the greatest offense could be, and she wondered what would hurt her more. she was hurt that the flowers would not tell her the truth, but her heart understood that they did not wish to sadden her. perhaps she ought to tell the flowers that she was stronger, now. a little frightened sometimes, but surely stronger on this day, as she looked upon the man she had run from but days ago. as he spoke of her improvement, deirdre smiled sweetly, bashful for the praise received. but as he promised the return of tachyon, she exhaled a tiny little breath. do you promise? for deirdre had come to love tachyon, as she loved eilidh, and yearned for him in the absence of casmir. and as she thought of her brother, she whimpered. why do they go at all?